A New Flavour
She was a complete contradiction, at least to the untrained eye. Boldly assertive in clothing, makeup and speech, Jenna –who I’d only previously known online- had proclaimed she was quite shy when she sashayed into my life at a bloggers’ conference last year. “Shy” was not how I’d describe her. A mischievous gleam swirled like an undiscovered cosmos in her dark eyes, while her full red lips seemed determined to settle into a cheeky pout whenever they weren’t getting her into trouble.
The initial proclamation of “shy” turned to “submissive” when the familiarity of time loosened our tongues further, embracing the relaxed atmosphere in a local pub after the close of the first conference day. Submissive? Interesting. Combined with the fact she had killer curves and the sass to match, this perked me up even further.
I’m not sure I’ve ever had vanilla sex… I mean I’ve tried, but it’s just not for me. A hot woman with a nose for mischief and a body that soon follows? Fuck, yes. Things were about to get very interesting.
Or, so I thought. The conversation naturally turned more and more towards sex/safe sex/the spectrum of adult pleasures, because we’re sex bloggers; then the subject of sexuality was broached. I can’t remember how or who by, mostly because all I remember was the crushing disappointment. She revealed she was completely and utterly hetero. I felt sure everyone would turn to watch my clit clatter through the floor as the hopeful tingle instantly fizzled out.
Still, we carried on talking. With such a salacious prospect for the evening suddenly snatched away, I felt like I needed a glass of wine more than ever before. My face burned from a needless embarrassment; how could I have got it so wrong? I’d felt sure she was bi, especially after much online flirting in recent months. But, no wine for either of us – she was driving, and I needed to keep a clear head too, so softies it was.
The late afternoon turned to evening and the majority of attendees had gone back to their hotel rooms or decided to venture on to another establishment. Snug in our corner, we decided to carry on the conversation for a while right where we were. Then, a revelation:
“Well, I say I’m straight, but I’ve just never been with a girl. I can find women attractive but I’m not sure how to go about… you know, all that…”
Now that sounded much more positive. Positively bi-curious, if you asked me. Suddenly glad I was clear-headed from zero alcohol, and less likely to make an absolute fool of myself, I decided to tread lightly with this gorgeous girl-fun virgin.
“It’s everyone’s first time once. And as long as people keep communicating, it should stay fun. That’s what it’s all about, after all.”
“Hmm, yes, I suppose…” she agreed, hesitantly. It was the first topic of conversation about which I’d seen her show any uncertainty. I hoped this was down to lack of experience, rather than a lack of interest. I mean, the chat kept gravitating back to the subject of lesbian sex, and her eyes certainly seemed drawn to the low plunge of my top, so…
“Have you ever even kissed a girl?” I summoned all my courage to ask her outright.
“No, never. I’ve thought about it lots…”
I probably imagined that her eyes darted towards my own slightly parted lips then, through which I hardly dared breathe.
“… but never actually done it. I’d probably be rubbish…” She tailed off, rather awkwardly.
She was definitely on the back foot now, on unfamiliar ground. But there was an underlying frisson of excitement too, of adventure. I hoped she felt it as well, and that my resurfaced pulsing clit wasn’t simply pumping my imagination into overdrive.
No; I realised she was asking me for my help. For my advice. Like she had done many times before, about blogging topics, online. But this time she wasn’t the newbie blogger, she was the newbie bisexual woman. In front of me, in the here and now, in the curvaceous flesh, in the heat of the moment.
I had a split-second to make my decision. I decided to seize the moment.
“I can show you,” I ventured. “If you want me to, of course…”
Any residual tension between us due to fear of misunderstanding melted away with her reply.
“Yes. I want to… I mean, I’d like that very much.
But where? It’s not like we’re properly alone here. And I really am shy!”
I laughed at that. I still didn’t believe she was shy, not really. And I finally knew why she’d stayed with me in the snug, why she hadn’t embarked on the excitements of the city with the others. She had a new flavour of excitement in mind.
*** *** *** *** ***
“Just one, to help you relax,” I told her, as the cold mini Pinot from the mini-bar trickled into the glasses with a soft babble. She’d become so tense with nerves on the drive back to the hotel we were both staying in -albeit different rooms- I’d been sure her fingers would leave permanent indents on the steering wheel.
“Yes, Mistress,” she replied softly, tauntingly. And using the opportunity to test out the sound of it in the air, and the feel of it on her tongue, no doubt. Smiling, I turned carry our wine to where she sat on the edge of the luxurious king-size bed and handed her a glass.
“Cheeky girl. I approve,” I assured her, sitting opposite in one of the available chairs. I was hoping she’d decide to continue down the kinky route; but I didn’t want to apply any pressure.
After a couple of sips she set her wine down on the bedside table and looked at me expectantly. I said nothing, simply continued sipping at my own. Eventually she got the hint. You want something? You’ll have to ask for it.
“So… uh, please could you… you know, what we were talking about?”
Close enough. For now.
“You want me to show you how to kiss a girl.”
“Yes… please, Mistress.”
“Mmm,” I murmured, satisfied with her response. “Well first, I need to be a little more comfortable.”
Slipping the fasteners on my waist cincher, I let it slip to the floor behind while carefully stepping out of my high heels, kicking them back to join the belt. I simply wore the black fitted shirt now, with a couple more buttons undone than strictly necessary, teamed with a just-as-fitted pinstripe skirt. As I approached her, she didn’t know where to look. I was sure her fingers must be worn out; they were now gripping the sheets to either side.
Leaning in once sat beside her, to hold her face gently but firmly close to mine, I tried to give some reassurance.
“Please, just relax. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m not that scary, I promise. I won’t even bite. Maybe just nibble a little bit.”
She almost barked a laugh then, nerves will do that. Still, she did look slightly reassured. I wasn’t about to get all strict Mistress on her ass. Unless she specifically requested it, of course.
“Don’t you want to press your lips against mine? I know you’ve been staring at them for a while now, wondering how they taste…”
“Then do it. Just gently. You can close your eyes if you want to. And stop anytime you want to as well.”
I was still holding her face with one hand. I let both arms drape over her shoulders, around her neck, while moving even closer to provide access. I felt a nervous tremor, a shiver of anticipation, run through her as I moved closer, and then…
Our lips met. She had her eyes closed, and mine closed naturally, a habit. I like to give everything over to the sensation when I’m kissing, and this time was no different.
She really didn’t know what to do, but it was ok. I guided her. My lips pressed against hers, and I breathed in her perfume, and tasted the combination of fresh wine and day-long lipstick coating her lips. Her arms came round to embrace me as we moved back on the bed, somehow, eyes closed, feeling our way purely with lust and emotion.
My lips parted to subtly take in a breath of air, and she took it as a sign. Along with my revitalising, silent gasp, her tongue gently explored the entrance to my mouth. A painful surge of tingling directly to my clitoris as her tongue found my own, the first flash of intimate connection. Our saliva combining, the heat of our bodies radiating a sphere of bonded lust.
Then I was climbing on her, driven onwards by her passionate response to the twirl of my tongue around her unpractised one. She allowed me to move her backwards, up the bed, to rest her comfortably against the pillows there. With one hand in her hair, holding her there firmly, dominantly, my other reached down blindly to locate and undo a few of her buttons. I needed to feel more of her. If she let me.
She did. The gasped, ragged breaths between lips mushing and tongues dancing became audible, wordless moans for more. I simply straddled rather than sat on her, feeling as much of her as I could, clothed and unclothed parts, wanting her to know and feel her freedom to stop at any time. Her hands, free to move me, to push me, to give me any indicator it was too much. It wasn’t too much. By the increasing volume of those moans, and the frenzied tongue lashing she was unleashing in my mouth, it wasn’t yet enough.
*** *** *** *** ***
Her hips bucked impatiently as my hands let go of one of hers to slide the soft fabric of her dress up over her thighs towards her waist. Our wine glasses stood together, half-empty and forgotten on the side. We thirsted for a different type of intoxication.
Lost in time on that plush king-size bed, as lost as her girl-kiss virginity and at least one of my shirt buttons, we’d ravaged each other’s mouths while relishing the chance to explore long-admired silhouettes, albeit mostly over clothes –until now. Having evidently made her choice, Jenna had almost pushed me down between her legs, her hands on my shoulders. Our lips parted, the broken seal of the kiss breaching her blissful trance and making her realise what she was doing. A look of absolute despair and panic crossed her face at trying to force me to do anything, at pushing her Mistress into pleasuring her.
I’d taken her hands and smiled into that panic, then reassured her it was ok. It was all ok. It was simply passion, raw, unhindered passion, and I took it as a compliment. She was enjoying herself – wasn’t she? She nodded fiercely; yes.
“So yes, I think I will kiss you there.”
“No, not quite,” I responded, with one of my favourite Domme-quips. “But you may call me Goddess if you like.”
Time to take the plunge and I was looking forward to my main course. Licking my lips in anticipation, still tasting her mouth on mine, I relished taking my time over gently pushing the folds of the dress upwards, revealing more of her beautiful, feminine body with every inch. My fingers eventually met a different type of fabric, and her black lace knickers were the penultimate barrier to another oral pleasure session to our mutual satisfaction. The ultimate would be her rejection of my attentions. I looked up for her confirmation.
She whimpered a hoarse “please…” while her fingers attempted to find and remove her underwear herself. I laughed softly. That’s a yes then.
Fingers looped into either side of the skin-tight black lace, I peeled them down over her generous hips, revealing a tidy patch of fur. I could tell her full lower lips were sodden with excitement, and my mouth watered at the prospect of my task; tongue-bathing her to absolute ecstasy.
Panties peeled down and flung off to some distant corner, I lowered my mouth in service to this sexy submissive. Her fingers had reached down to tangle in my hair, seeking comfort in a comparatively innocent hands-on connection while I explored her in the most intimate way.
The first taste is always a tang; the heat and scent filling my nostrils, the tip of my tongue discovering her unique flavour through every miniscule movement. My palms rested on her thigh-tops, my thumbs gently keeping her vulva open to allow my mouth unrestricted access to her protruding clitoris and to her slippery, saturated folds. I pulled my tongue back from that first, hesitant amuse-bouche, teasing her by blowing cool and breathing hot air alternately on her exposed, tingling nub and desperately slick wetness.
When I felt like she might tear out my hair in frustration, or that someone may come knocking to see what the cause of the strangulated sounds was, I swept my tongue from as deep between her legs, from her perineum, nose wet from her opening, all the way up past her pussy entrance to finish with a firm, precise circling of her clit. From tang to sweetness as my mouth embraced her unique flavour. Her fingers couldn’t keep up with the sensations, and her hands were lost from me. I imagined her hands grasping helplessly in mid-air as she struggled not to jump right to almost-orgasm point. We’d both certainly had enough teasing to be nearly there right now.
But I wasn’t done yet, so neither was she.
Moving one hand up to expose her clitoris to me even higher, I brought my other down between her legs to first tease the folds at the apex of her thighs, now wet with her lust, then slide over the puffy outer labia to tantalise her pussy entrance with my fingertips. Slipping my thumb and index finger only just inside, I copied the forward momentum with my mouth. My lips encircled her clit in a soft kiss reminiscent of her first, tremulous taste of me.
While the tips of my thumb and index fingers circled only just inside her slippery, tight entrance, my tongue delicately tasted each millimetre surrounding her clit with feather-light touches. As I felt she could take more, and the movement of her hips were certainly testament to her wanting more, I gave a little more pressure with my tongue. At the same time, I pushed my index finger deeper inside her, allowing my thumb to slip outside so I could finger the full length of her extraordinarily tight pussy, if we should desire.
And she did desire. She pushed down on my hand, wanting to be fucked, needing me to finger fuck her cunt while my lips and tongue pleasured her undoubtedly throbbing, hard clit. Her heavy breaths intermingled with the groans of need, of fantasies made real and the intoxication of pleasure, while the sounds of sex, her sex, squelched tightly round my hand as I pumped it ferociously, equally desperate to fully satisfy her.
Writhing heavily on my hand, it was fruitless trying to keep her in place with my other anymore. I reached up towards her, sightlessly, eyes and mouth still lost in her pleasure centre. I felt fingers around mine, as she reached down to grip me, and we squeezed each other’s hand in a wordless communication of reassurance and approval.
My mouth struggled to keep the latch with her clit, and instead my tongue merely lashed over her easily found clitoris while she bucked underneath me. A second finger found its way into her, trying to meet her demands, then a third. It was all I could fit, but the effort was as much as a full fisting, my fingers thrusting into her as fast as her tightness, the confined space and the extremely slick squelching would safely allow.
Curling my fingers upwards and using my body’s weight on her legs to at least try and keep her a little more still, I sought out and played upon her G-spot with my three buried fingertips. Once each in turn as I cycled my fingers inside her, knuckles stimulating her vaginal walls and the unusual, heavily lubricated movement quite possibly unlike anything she’d experienced before. Groans turned to unashamed orgasmic squeals, as my tongue bore down on her clit and took up as steady a pace of lapping to one side of it as I could manage in the position I was in.
I was absolutely exhausted, but my efforts were soon rewarded. With a whisper of “oh god… oh god…” she suddenly held her breath, braced herself in anticipation of the torrent, then had no choice but to release it in a loud, juddering rush as her body pulled her mind with it into total abandon. Her pussy walls clamped so tightly around my fingers, I would have been worried for their safety if I hadn’t been so intent on drawing out this precious moment for us both. I allowed no let up from my tongue, lashing over her clit in that rhythmic pattern, and my fingers still cycled in that teasing motion inside her as much as my arm’s strength allowed.
“Ok, ok, oh god… oh GOD… ok no, no more, too much, I can’t…”
Feeling her wriggle upwards told me her delicious orgasm truly was over, and I smiled against her cunt and simply enjoyed the residual pulsing of her pussy around my drained fingers.
In time, I’d move up for snuggles, when she was ready. And if she wanted them. For now, I bathed in the afterglow of her first girl-given orgasm, in her wetness, and mused on how we’d both enjoyed a taste of something new that night.
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